Playing Along
by Rygelina
Summary: Short one-shot set sometime during season 1. Will and Hannibal are working a case together, and wind up in a very unexpected location. Hannnibal takes the lead, and Will plays along... even when things get a bit uncomfortable. Hannigram! (So if you're not into that, consider yourself warned.) Quite harmless, though. But rated M to be on the safe side.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters and situations of "Hannibal". No copyright infringement is intended.

**A/N:** This is my first "Hannibal"-story, so please be gentle with me. Supposed to be fluffy, but as with most things "Hannibal", a bit of darkness crept in. Inspired by the song "Bad Romance", especially the line: "I want your leather-studded kiss..." I mean, who could resist that prompt? Certainly not me! ;) Anyway, I hope you like it. And, please, mind the rating.

* * *

Will went first through the innocuous-looking door.

It slammed shut behind Hannibal with an ominous sound and his breathing quickened as darkness closed around them like a velvet fist. He froze for a moment, eyes adjusting to the gloom, all his senses on high alert.

They were standing in an empty corridor. Somewhere ahead, compact darkness gave way to the faintest of lights, a muted, ambient glow reflecting off shiny, black walls. Will reached out in curiosity, only to yank his hand away at the soft, almost warm, feeling of rubber. _Great_, he thought. _A rubber room. __Hope they remember to let me out again._

An amused laugh sounded from behind him at his startled reaction. Will turned and gave Hannibal a sour stare. "How did you say you knew this place?" he asked. Hannibal's smile only widened, and he tapped the side of his nose. "Right," Will snorted and started down the corridor, following the twists and turns with some trepidation.

Behind him, Hannibal's measured steps echoed in the shadows. For a moment, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up as the hollow sound brought back fleeting images of a dream he'd very much hoped he'd forgotten. _Dream? Or hallucination?_

He paused when they came to a large, cavernous room, occupied only by a small, wrap-around reception desk and a young man, both illuminated in stark relief by a single, downward-facing spotlight. The receptionist was dressed in black pants and a matching shirt, and looked ordinary enough, until – Will glanced at Hannibal somewhat suspiciously – you noticed the leather collar around his neck and the matching cuffs, complete with tiny, ornamental padlocks. _Okay..._

The young man looked up as they approached, taking in Will's rather scruffy appearance, an apologetic, but decidedly cool, smile already forming on his lips.

"I'm sorry, sir. Members only."

Will was already fumbling for his credentials, and was about to identify himself, when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder and Hannibal stepped into the cone of light, smiling in a rather familiar fashion.

"Good evening, Stanley," he said and the young man's smile widened in recognition. His whole stance changed to one of respectful deference, and he inclined his head.

"Dr. Lecter. Forgive me, sir, I didn't see you. You are most welcome."

Will couldn't help it. He stared at Hannibal, eyes going wide in surprise. Hannibal only smiled back at him, looking like he was suppressing another amused laugh. _At my expense, of course._ Then – embarrassingly enough – his eyes popped even wider as the man continued.

"Stanley, this is William. He's... with me." The slight hesitation was of just the right duration to insinuate all kinds of things, if one's thinking was thus inclined. Will stiffened, his cheekbones turning red, as Hannibal's hand moved to his other shoulder, turning it into a distinctly possessive gesture. Still, he smiled. Hannibal obviously had a plan.

Again, Stanley nodded. "Of course, dr Lecter. Please, go on through," he said, indicating a nearly invisible door set into the rubber wall.

They headed for the door, Hannibal's hand still resting on Will's shoulder. As they stepped through, Will found his voice again. "So..." His voice wavered and he cleared his throat. "Exactly what kind of club is this?"

Hannibal only gave him a sideways glance. "I believe you already know the answer to that question." The doctor's face was unreadable, but Will could sense the amusement hiding underneath, and he suddenly reminded Will of a cat playing with a helpless mouse.

"Uh-huh." Again, he cleared his throat. "And... you're a member." Somehow the statement came out half questioningly, half accusatory, and Will frowned. _That sounded... snippy. It's not like I care what Hannibal does in his own spare time. __Right?_

Hannibal gave him an odd look, then squeezed his shoulder, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially in his ear. "Technically, yes." Will was about to ask what the hell that meant, but he was interrupted by their arrival in the main room. "Play along now, William," Hannibal finished with a devilish wink that made Will decidedly anxious.

_I'm not sure this i__s__ a good idea,_ he thought.

Will didn't know what he had expected, but it wasn't this. The large room resembled any opulently decorated, formal living-room. Lush carpets covered the gleaming floor and the furnishings were stylish and comfortable, yet surprisingly ordinary-looking. Not a chain or whip or gaudy, brothel-chic chandelier in sight. Not even a dungeon... well, at least not that he could see.

Will didn't know if he was relieved or disappointed. Hannibal was looking at him with a smirk that made him suspect his ambivalence was written all over his face. Well, "smirk" was a bit of an overstatement, but Will was becoming quite familiar with the man's practically indecipherable facial expressions.

They were greeted by a stunning red-head wearing a daring, low-cut evening dress and long leather gloves. She was obviously no stranger to Hannibal either as she fluttered her eye-lashes at him and extended her hand.

Hannibal bowed and kissed it lightly. "Mistress Floria. Always a pleasure."

"Dr. Lecter. It's been far too long." Then Floria's eyes cut to Will and back again in obvious speculation. "May I?"

The question was clearly directed at Hannibal. Will stiffened and – knowing the man as well as he did – preempted Hannibal's no doubt affirmative answer. "No, you may not," he said a bit huffily.

Floria pouted, but didn't seem fazed by the rejection. Quite the opposite, in fact. "Mmm, he's a feisty one," she purred in the back of her throat. "And just adorable. You always had the most impeccable taste."

Hannibal readily agreed. "I do, don't I?" Will's face flamed. He was about to say something rash when the man let him off the hook and made introductions. "Mistress Floria, this is William. William, meet Mistress Floria, the charming proprietor of this..." For once the man seemed to be searching for the right word. "...unique establishment."

Will shook her proffered hand and nodded, knowing he would make a complete fool of himself if he tried to follow Hannibal's immaculately polite example. Hannibal and Floria exchanged a few more pleasantries, then she left them, eyes trailing one last time over Will, a wicked, almost predatory, smile on her lips. Unconsciously, he moved closer to Hannibal. His eyes on the floor, he completely missed the pleased expression the tiny – yet oh, so revealing – movement bestowed on the doctor's face.

Hannibal tucked Will's hand under his arm and led him further into the room. Will frowned, but didn't move it. Everywhere they went, people nodded in greeting and sent speculating – some even inviting – glances their way, and Will found himself staring down at his feet. Hannibal noticed his discomfort and patted his hand reassuringly. Will started and looked up. _T__hat really didn't help. _

Instead, Will snagged a glass of champagne from a passing waitress and downed the contents in two seconds flat. Hannibal gave him a disapproving look, but Will ignored it. He had decided liquid courage was the way to go. He deposited the empty flute on a table and snagged another one. Thankfully, being Hannibal's arm-candy didn't necessitate talking, and he listened in silence to the man's effortless small-talk as a seemingly endless array of people came forward to say hello.

He didn't notice that he was huddling next to Hannibal much like a scared kid on the first day of school; when he did, he took a half-step away. _Jeez, Graham. Get a grip,_ he told himself sternly.

But after a while, he wasn't sure how much more he could stand. His mind was a jumbled mess of impressions, and beads of sweat were breaking out on his forehead. Hannibal was fielding comments like a master swordsman, working the investigation in his own inimitable way, but it was obvious he was getting nowhere. No one knew anything; and if they did, they certainly weren't talking. He supposed he could start waving his credentials around, demanding answers, but that probably wouldn't go over very well.

Will swallowed nervously, watching his knuckles whitening as he tightened his grip on the glass. It wasn't just the throng of people, all of them strangers, and the unrelenting wash of background noise and humming voices, it was the way they were looking at him, like he was a piece of meat. He was used to blending into the background – relied on it, in fact, as a coping mechanism – but here he was practically on display, hanging off Hannibal Lecter's arm, escaping no one's notice. It made him thoroughly, and acutely, uncomfortable.

A particularly insinuating comment made him stiffen, and he choked on a sip of champagne. He gave the offending woman a hostile stare and she scurried away, having the grace to at least look chagrined.

_Okay, that's it. I'm __outta__ here. __Play along? __I can__ do that. I __can do that i__n spades._

Shifting his body language to something suitably demure, he went up on tip-toe, leaning one hand on Hannibal's shoulder, and whispered into his ear. To a casual observer, it probably looked intimate and cute as hell, but Will's words belied the – hopefully – seductive smile pasted on his lips.

"Get me the hell out of here, Hannibal, or so help me God I'll shoot someone."

At first Hannibal stiffened at the unexpected closeness, but then he laughed and relaxed, obviously deciding two could play that game. "My dear William. What a delicious idea," he drawled, covering Will's hand with his own.

Will flushed and bit his tongue on a scathing retort as Hannibal took his cooperation and ran with it. He didn't even dare consider what the others must be thinking of his little display. They probably though he was suggesting... _No, no, no. Don't go there..._

"Hannibal..." he practically growled through his ever-more strained smile. The he jumped as Hannibal turned and cupped his chin, tilting his face up, almost like a prelude to a kiss.

"Of course. Anything for you, sweet William." This time, the words were spoken in a sensual whisper so sincere that Will froze in place, entranced by the sound and by the dark eyes effortlessly holding his. Their faces were only inches apart, and for a moment – shockingly – he was convinced that Hannibal was going to kiss him.

Even more shocking – Will was pretty sure he'd let him.

_Oh, hell... I knew this was a bad idea._

Needless to say, with Hannibal at the wheel and Will having no clue whatsoever what he was supposed to do now, the ride home was very silent.

The End


End file.
